Cross Country Case: Capital Offense
by Peonywinx
Summary: Crossover with CSI:NY. Gibbs and his team return to D.C. to chase after their murder suspect from New York, while Mac and his team continue to work the case from NY. As the two teams explore deeper, some questions are answered, but even more are raised.
1. Prologue

_**A/N: Okay, this was supposed to post tomorrow, but I won't be free to do it then, so I decided I'd do it now. That being said, welcome back, everybody! Here's the second installment of Cross Country Case.**_

_**For those of you who are new to this story, welcome as well. This is the second part of my crime show crossover trilogy, between **CSI:NY, NCIS, **and **NCIS: Los Angeles**. I recommend tha****t you read the first story before you read this one, as the case really is quite complicated. It's titled **Cross Country Case: Urban Murder**, and you can find it in the **CSI:NY **category or on my profile.**_

_**And now, with all that out of the way, we now pick up our tale of crime where we left off - in the capital of the United States of America: Washington, D.C.**  
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><p><strong><em>Cross-Country Case: Capital Offense<em>**

**Prologue**

_22:42, October 30; Washington, D.C._

A dark-haired man strolled around the grounds of a well-kept, middle-class house in one of the more secluded residential areas of the United States capital. His companion walked beside him, keeping pace with his slightly frantic footsteps.

"Kendall, calm down," he said. "No one's going to find you here."

"You can't guarantee that," Kendall retorted, his tone agitated.

His partner rolled his eyes. "I swear, just because you have Huntington's isn't a reason to induce paranoia."

Kendall irately tried to still his twitching hands, but failed; his Huntington's was progressing rapidly into the late stages, and he knew he didn't have much time left before he lost his sanity and required help to survive. After that it was only a short step to death.

"I don't have a lot of time left to enjoy the fruits of my labor," he pointed out acidly. "I'd rather not spend my last days rotting away in some tiny, godforsaken jail cell, you know."

"Who says you will?"

"You don't know these people! My brother says they're going all out to find me."

"Puh-lease. You're not even responsible for that Marine's murder."

"Regardless, I am far from guiltless."

His friend huffed. "Honestly, you're getting worked up about nothing. This is the safest place in D.C. for you. The documents and ownership deals are completely legal, and we don't do anything questionable here. It's called a safe house for a reason. The cops won't get anything on this place. Trust me." He turned and started walking back to the house.

"Where are you going?" Kendall called.

"I have somewhere I need to be." He winked. "If you know what I mean."

"You're gonna leave me here alone?"

"Look, Kendall, you'll be fine, all right? If you get caught – which I doubt – just give them my name, and they'll stop worrying about you."

"And exactly in what context shall I give them your name?" Kendall asked sarcastically. "The part which mentions you're an international jewel smuggler?"

His companion shrugged. "You can, if you want to. It's really not a big deal." Then the corners of his lips turned upward in a feral grin as he opened the door to the house. "After all, it's not like they'll ever find me."

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><p><em><strong>AN: Yes, yes, I know it's short - but it's a prologue. The chapters are much longer, I assure you. And speaking of chapters, Chapter One will post on Monday, December 12. After that, it will be daily updates as usual.**_

_**I must say, it's good to be back ;)**_


	2. Chapter One

**_A/N: Oookay...only one reviewer to thank...THANK YOU,_**_leath**! Yes, there will be a lot of Abby - in fact, I do believe you'll be surprised by just how much Abby there is. Also thanks to **ladyyuuki16, andrewjeeves, **and **cms4ever **for putting this story on alerts...I would love to hear some feedback from you guys once in a while too.**_

_**Now, on with the story!**_

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

_09:30, October 31; NCIS Headquarters, Washington, D.C._

Tony absentmindedly twirled a pen around in his fingers, his eyes fixated on Ziva making a phone call at the opposite desk. Her left hand cradled the phone against her ear, while her right was busy jotting down notes. Her clothes were ordinary, nondescript – navy blue, three-quarter-sleeved blouse and black capri pants – and she had tied her dark hair back in a half ponytail, leaving the other half down to soften her face.

But there was something odd about the picture today, and it was driving Tony crazy trying to figure out what it was that was different about the ex-Mossad agent.

McGee, looking up from his monitor, noticed Tony's concentration, and he followed his gaze to Ziva. A smirk made itself known on his face; Tony was at it again.

The two could dance around the subject all they liked – but everyone knew Tony and Ziva were perfect together. They were just too damn stubborn to admit they liked each other. McGee and Abby actually had a bet on; he didn't believe Tony would ever work up the guts to tell Ziva how he felt, but she cheerfully pointed out that if Tony didn't take the first step, Ziva would. Ducky heard about the bet from Palmer – who wagered that it wouldn't happen at all – and he seriously predicted that they would realize what they meant to each other…eventually.

So far, nobody had won the bet, as they hadn't set a time limit for it.

Still, that didn't mean McGee couldn't make fun of Tony.

"If Ziva catches you staring at her like that, she'll kill you," he said. "You know that, right?"

"Shh!" Tony shushed him. McGee smirked.

"What are you looking at, anyway?"

Tony swirled around in his swivel chair. "Does she look different to you today?"

"Different?" McGee sneaked a cautious glance at Ziva. "No…"

"She looks different to me," Tony said.

McGee hid a smile – that is, until Tony began wondering out loud about the difference.

"Let's see…it's not her hair, or her face…it's definitely not her clothes…maybe it's her makeup? No, Ziva hardly wears makeup. Okay…think, DiNozzo, think."

"Tony, do you mind keeping it to yourself?" McGee asked pointedly. "I'm trying to find Kendall Wilcox."

"Any luck on that?"

"Not yet."

"Wonder if the CSIs got anything extra," mused Tony, switching track abruptly.

"We'll know as soon as Ziva gets off the phone," McGee replied as he clicked his mouse. A short beep emitted from his computer, and, on cue, Gibbs entered the area, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"Got something, McGee?" he questioned.

McGee regretfully shook his head. "Nope. Sorry, boss. It's just an alert system I set up on my computer for…well, doesn't matter what it's for."

Just then Ziva put down the phone with an audible clatter. "That was Detective Messer from the New York Crime Lab. They've been searching for Vincent Wilcox, but they haven't managed to find him yet. Meanwhile, they're keeping tabs on Janice Bright and investigating Judge Harvey Gates' murder. They've also got a protection detail on Linnaeus and Marie Wilcox, just in case anyone might decide to try attacking them because of their connection to Bright or the smuggling ring."

"So we've got nothing," Tony surmised.

"Not exactly," said Gibbs, already moving to the exit. "Dead Marine downtown, let's go."

As the NCIS agents geared up with practiced movements, Tony kept one eye on Ziva and suddenly realized why she looked different.

"Oh, now I see it," he said, his tone full of self-satisfaction.

"See what?" Ziva queried as she tucked her gun into her waistband.

"You're wearing the necklace I gave you last Christmas – or were we counting it as Hanukah?"

Ziva scoffed. "_That _is why you were staring at me for the past twenty minutes?"

Tony blinked, right before he cringed. "You saw that?"

Ziva simply smirked at him as they got onto the elevator.

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><p>Major Daniel Wells was not a particularly distinguished Marine, but he was a Marine who did his work well. He clocked in punctually, gave notice when he was going to be absent, and had an earnest, honest attitude about him that his commanders loved. He had made friends with his entire unit, and his superiors had never had to report him for misbehavior. On all accounts, he was a well-liked, well-behaved soldier whom no one would want to kill.<p>

The only problem with that conception, of course, was that someone _had _killed him. Killed him _and _left the knife sticking out of his chest, pushed in to the hilt.

"I'm not buying it," Tony declared. Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Here we go again," she said.

"You can't be a Navy Major and _not _have any enemies," Tony pointed out.

"Maybe," Ziva conceded, "but he hasn't been off base in months."

Tony harrumphed. "What I don't get," he said, "is why we're investigating this case when we've still got a major homicide to solve."

"We do not have any new leads on the Jasper murder, and the judge's homicide is out of our jurisdiction," Ziva reasoned. "Until something new comes up, instead of wasting time chasing down nonexistent leads, we can solve other murders."

"She's right," McGee put in from where he was snapping photographs of Daniel Wells' dead body.

"No duh, McGoo."

"Greetings to you, my fellow rabble-rousers, on this fine day of tricks."

Tony, Ziva, and McGee turned to see Ducky making his way over to them with his assistant Jimmy Palmer.

"I'm guessing that's your way of wishing us Happy Halloween?" Tony deduced.

"You are correct, Anthony," Ducky said with a chuckle. He set his portable kit down on the ground next to him as he squatted to perform a preliminary examination of Wells' body.

"Have you seen Abby's costume this year?" Palmer asked, looking, as always, like a sweet world-class nerd. "It's awesome."

"Yep," McGee agreed.

Tony frowned slightly and checked his watch. "It's 10:22 right now; you've only been at work since 8:30, and you were on our floor the whole time. When did you get a chance to see what Abby's wearing?"

McGee just smirked at him, leaving Tony puzzling over this.

"Got a TOD, Duck?" Gibbs inquired, appearing on scene just as Ducky pulled a liver thermometer out from their victim.

"Liver temp is 89.9 degrees, which puts time of death a little less than six hours ago," Ducky replied. He tried pulling the dead major's arm up; it fought him, and the movement stopped about six inches off the ground. "Rigor is well set in."

"So what do we know, boss?" Tony asked.

In response, Gibbs just handed him a handwritten address; Tony accepted it.

"Okay, so this is…what? – brother, wife, best friend?" he questioned. "Mother-in-law?" he added jokingly.

"Sister," Gibbs replied. "Take Ziva with you."

"Yes, sir," said Tony, already moving – while Ziva tried to figure out whether being stuck with Tony on Halloween day was a blessing or a curse. "Come on, Ziva – let's go trick-or-treating for information."

Ziva rolled her eyes as she followed him.

Curse. Definitely curse.

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><p>When McGee reached Abby's lab later, as usual, there was loud music blaring from her wall-mounted speakers. McGee had to shout to get her to notice him over the din.<p>

"Abby!" he yelled.

"Oh, sorry, McGee." Abby hastily turned down the volume and spun to face him with a bright smile. "What's up?"

Abby Sciuto was well known throughout the office for her elaborate costumes on Halloween Day, and this year was no different. This time, she had decided to take on the superhero branch of crime-fighting and had donned a silky black Batgirl costume, complete with a cape and a pointy-eared mask-hood that was currently pulled down over the upper part of her face.

"Have I mentioned I really love that costume?" McGee asked with a grin. Abby grinned back.

"You did, this morning."

"Speaking of which, I accidentally let it slip that I'd seen you in it, even though I've been upstairs since I got to work."

"Ah," said Abby. "So, am I going to have any curious colleagues asking questions?"

"Probably just Tony."

She nodded, smiling. "I can handle Tony." She pulled the hood down, revealing her cheerful face and black hair tied in a low ponytail instead of its usual two high pigtails. "So, what've you got for me?"

McGee handed her the knife from Wells' body, now encased in its own plastic evidence bag. Abby looked disappointed.

"That's it?" she asked. McGee smiled.

"For now," he replied. "Ducky's starting on the autopsy as we speak, so we'll have more for you soon."

Abby's face brightened once more. Then she asked, "Okay. Now, what are you hiding behind your back?"

McGee pulled his left arm from where he'd been keeping it behind him. "What, this?" he asked, shaking a large Caf-Pow in front of her.

Abby's grin grew wider.

* * *

><p>Ducky carefully unbuttoned Daniel Wells' bloodstained shirt with practiced hands, then slid it off his torso in smooth movements.<p>

"Mr. Palmer, would you get Mr. Wells' belt for me, please," Ducky requested.

"Sure thing, Dr. Mallard," Palmer agreed, sliding his hand to Wells' belt buckle. He unfastened it, and then he and Ducky slowly pulled Wells' pants from his legs.

It was then, when Daniel Wells lay almost naked in front of them and there were no clothes to conceal him, that Ducky noticed what he had previously missed. The ME inhaled sharply, attracting Palmer's concerned attention.

"Dr. Mallard?" he inquired, still holding Wells' pants.

"Mr. Palmer, get Gibbs on the phone," Ducky instructed.

"But we haven't even started the autopsy," Palmer protested.

"Just do it, Mr. Palmer. There's something on our dead Marine he needs to see."

Because, carved right there on Wells' ankle, Ducky was staring at a bloody red 'M'.

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><p><em><strong>AN: So, updates from now on will be daily, as usual. Need I even say that I'd love to hear what you have to say?**_


	3. Chapter Two

_**A/N: Aaand, we're back to daily updates ;) Thanks to my reviewers **leath, cms4ever, **and **CODIS**. I can't take full credit for the Abby in a Batgirl costume - one ****of my pals came up with that brilliant idea when I was seeking inspiration. And really? The Main Wave kill was a twist? I kinda thought it would be expected.** CODIS,**thank you for your kind words of praise. I wish I could teach you how to write like I do, but it took years of practice :P And I love Ziva and Tony, too. They're taking absolutely AGES to get together like they should. About**** Abby and McGee...well, you'll just have to wait and see, won't you? I'll tell you that the answer to that situation is in this story, so you won't have to wait till the third installment.**_

_**Now, here's chapter two - in which we catch up with the New York team.  
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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

_11:19, October 31, New York Crime Lab, NY_

Mac rubbed his eyes tiredly and leaned back in his chair, feeling his sleepless night catch up with him.

Since Gibbs' departure yesterday, he and his team had been working around the clock trying to track down Vincent Wilcox _and_ investigating Judge Gates' murder _and _dealing with the other cases the city dropped onto their laps – Sinclair was after his head for the murderer who had killed a New York State Congressman this morning, not to mention blowing his top about not being informed of NCIS' two-day presence here. Mac loved his city, he really did – but he dearly wished it were a little less criminal. Only New York could come up with four major homicides in less than a week.

Mac was really feeling worn down, so he decided to take a just a few seconds to relax – if you can call reviewing the facts of the Main Wave case relaxing.

Fact: Leah Jasper had come to New York searching for information on Main Wave, a major jewel smuggling ring operating from Los Angeles, which had been involved in the murder of her childhood best friend Anna Winston.

Fact: Jasper was killed on the morning of October 26, drowned by water from her swimming cap.

Fact: Her killer was linked to Main Wave, and there was a very strong possibility it was one of the elder two Wilcox brothers.

Fact: A month earlier, Jasper had testified against college enemy Janice Bright, who was the stepdaughter of Kendall Wilcox.

Fact: Judge Harvey Gates, who presided over Bright's trial, had also been murdered, at around the same time Jasper was. There were partial fingerprints on his neck that Adam was trying to reconstruct in order to get a usable print, but it would take some time.

Fact: Kendall Wilcox was in Washington, D.C., where Gibbs's team was working to track him down.

Fact: Kendall Wilcox, at least, had a connection to Main Wave.

Fact: Joelle Bright had no idea of either her husband's or her daughter's illicit activities.

And…that was all. Mac couldn't think of any more concrete details about the case. Granted, that was quite a few, considering the case was less than a week old – but until they had something to link all of those unfitted facts together, the case was still a big jigsaw puzzle with more than half its pieces out of place – and it kept getting bigger. Mac couldn't see how large the frame actually was.

Of course, there were theories and speculations galore – some very plausible and likely – but nothing solid enough to constitute a proper fact. Mac wasn't even entirely convinced that Kendall really was the leader of Main Wave – all they had was his signature on deals brokered. For all they knew, he was just a decoy.

Theory: Vincent Wilcox was also involved in Main Wave.

Theory: Whoever killed Jasper and Judge Gates was trying to protect Main Wave's interests. Jasper was killed because of her investigation; Judge Gates because he'd put Bright in jail. This was one of the most likely hypotheses they had, and it led to the next theory.

Theory: Bright was helping Kendall in the business by stealing jewelry for Main Wave to sell. Mac was almost certain Bright was involved somehow, even if she wasn't responsible for Jasper's murder – and anyway, that didn't rule her out for the Gates homicide.

A soft knock on glass interrupted Mac's thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find Stella pushing open the door to his office, a wry but understanding expression on her face.

"You didn't go home last night, did you?" It was phrased like a question, but she said it more like a statement of fact. Mac had to smile at how well she knew him.

"No," he admitted.

Stella sighed. "You know, I can handle the lab just as well as you can. You should take a break."

"I don't have time for a break, Stella," Mac told her. "We're certainly not getting any in this case." He gestured to the pile of unsolved case files at the corner of his desk; at the top were the Jasper and Gates homicides.

"I may be able to help with that," said Stella. "Adam found traces of silicon carbide on Judge Gates' clothes. Now, silicon carbide is a manmade compound with a hardness that almost matches diamond. It's commonly used in the gem cutting industry to cut or grind gemstones."

"That's another connection to Main Wave, but I'm not seeing how it gets us any closer to finding our killer," said Mac.

"Wait, I'm not done yet." Stella smiled. "Even rich jewel smugglers need doctors, right? I had Adam search up Kendall and Vincent Wilcox's medical records from hospital databases. Now, in both of them, their Huntington's disease has progressed quite significantly, more so than in Linnaeus. Vincent's symptoms show that he's somewhere in the middle stages; Kendall is close to the later phase, where cognitive functions deteriorate. Both of them would have trouble controlling their fine motor functions, making it impossible for them to cut gems for Main Wave. But silicon carbide is also used in the tumbling process in the gem industry."

"Tumbling process?" Mac repeated.

"It's a technique used in gem cutting to polish the stones," Stella explained. "The gems are placed in a hexagonal barrel which is then rotated or vibrated by machinery over an extended period of time until the gems are polished. Silicon carbide is the most common abrasive used in the barrel."

"And since the machinery does the work of moving the barrel, Kendall or Vincent wouldn't need control of their fine motor skills to oversee the process," Mac deduced. "That's good circumstantial evidence that will help us build our case, but we still need someone or something concrete to link it to. We need to put either Kendall or Vincent at the scene with either Jasper or Gates at the time of their deaths."

"But I haven't told you the best part yet." Stella was grinning now.

"Which is?"

"Vincent Wilcox has been attending a series of clinical trials which are experimenting with a new drug to slow the progress of Huntington's at the Lutheran Medical Center in Brooklyn. As part of the trial, every patient is required to fill a sign-up sheet which includes name, contact number, email, and address. Danny and Flack are on their way there now."

Mac's face lifted at this bit of good news. Then his phone rang and he picked it up from the desk. "Taylor." He listened for a while; then he frowned and exchanged a glance with Stella. "Hold on; let me put you on speaker." As he pressed the speaker button he told Stella, "Gibbs," in response to her questioning look.

"_We've got another body." _Gibbs' statement was blunt, straightforward, and to the point; he never beat around the bush. _"With the letter 'M' on the ankle."_

"Main Wave," said Mac.

"_Right," _agreed Gibbs. _"The Marine's name is Daniel Wells; he was a Major with the 87__th__ Regiment."_

"What was the COD?" Mac asked.

"_He was stabbed in the chest with a big knife."_

"So now we've got three victims, all of them with an 'M' carved into their ankles – but none of them with the same MO," Stella surmised. "Col. Jasper was drowned by her swimming cap after being tied up and tortured – probably for information on how far she'd got on her investigation. Judge Gates was killed by garrote strangulation, and now we've got Major Wells, who was stabbed to death."

"Three killers?" Mac wondered out loud. "Main Wave would have the resources to hire multiple assassins. The only thing these three murders have in common is Main Wave. So we have to assume they all threatened the smuggling ring in one way or another."

"But why the 'M'?" Stella wanted to know.

"_It's a warning," _said Gibbs. _"'Don't get in our way, or you'll end up in the same boat.'"_

"These guys are vicious," Stella noted.

"_You got anything new on the judge's murder?" _Gibbs asked; Mac filled him in on Stella's findings.

"We'll give you a call once we've interrogated Vincent Wilcox," he finished.

"_Keep me informed," _was all Gibbs said before hanging up.

Just then the glass door opened again, to admit none other than Brigham Sinclair. Mac resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.

"Mac," Sinclair began.

"Chief, if you're here about the Congressman, I –"

"It's not about the Congressman, Mac," Sinclair cut him off. "Have you looked outside your window recently?"

Feeling that he wouldn't like where this was going, Mac went to his window and pulled apart the blinds to peer outside. His eyes widened at what he saw.

"It's a media circus out there, Taylor," Sinclair told him. "And they're asking questions about the recent string of killings in New York and D.C. They're calling it the Main Wave murders. Now, I want to know how they got that information. I was under the impression it was classified."

"Chief, no one in this lab told the media about any of the Main Wave killings," Mac defended.

"How about your federal buddies up in D.C.?"

"I'm confident none of them would have revealed anything about the case," Mac stated. "It's in our best interests to keep it low profile."

"Well, it's not that anymore," said Sinclair. "The reporters out there are demanding to know why the killer hasn't been caught yet. They're blowing the case up to something way above low profile."

Mac, however, had caught on to the implication of what the media was saying. "It's not a serial killer murdering these people," he corrected.

"What do you mean?"

"We have reason to believe Main Wave has been sending different people to assassinate those whom they feel might be getting too close to uncovering the truth about them," Stella put in. "Each target was killed by a different person, but always, the letter 'M' was carved into their ankles to serve as a warning to others."

"You can't tell the media that," Sinclair objected. "They'd have a field day with that one; it'll be a frenzy if the public finds out there are multiple killers working for the same company."

"We're not planning on telling the media anything," said Mac. "This case doesn't need news coverage; it's hot enough as it is."

"You have to tell them _something_, Mac," Sinclair pointed out. "Those people out there are questioning the department's ability to keep them safe. They want to know why we're not doing anything to catch the people responsible for the murders."

"Chief, we're doing everything we can," Mac said heatedly.

"Then you go tell them that!" Sinclair shot back, also raising his voice. "We can't have the people of this city thinking we can't do our jobs. So you have to do something to convince them otherwise. You've got to fix this, Taylor, and fast." With that, Sinclair strode out, leaving Mac and Stella staring after him.

Stella broke the silence first. "Mac, this case is getting out of hand."

Mac sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I know, Stella. I know."

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><p><em><strong>AN: Reviews are love! I'll see you all tomorrow with a brand new chapter.**_


	4. Chapter Three

_**A/N: Hello again, everyone. Last chapter we established that there are three Main Wave victims, and all of them were killed by different people. Today, we find out a little more about Main Wave's history.**_

___**Thanks to my reviewers **DizzyDrea, CODIS, leath, **and **TwilightPony21**.**_

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><p><strong>Chapter Three<strong>

_11:41, October 31; NCIS Headquarters_

The elevator dinged open, revealing Tony and Ziva having a minor disagreement.

"I still think she could have been more cooperative," Tony was complaining.

"She just found out her brother is dead, Tony," Ziva pointed out. "You can hardly expect her to be the most hospitable of hosts."

"She looked like she wanted to shoo us out all through the interview." Tony sounded offended.

"She answered our questions, did she not?"

"Well, yeah, but…"

Tony was saved the necessity of answering when McGee saw them from his desk and called, "Hey. How'd the interview with the sister go?"

"Good question, McGee," agreed Gibbs, appearing out of nowhere.

"According to Miranda Wells, her brother hasn't been involved in any dangerous activity since he got back from Iraq nine months ago," Tony spoke up. "They spoke on the phone two or three times a week, and once a month they met up for dinner. Their parents are dead and they've got no one but each other."

"Miranda has an alibi," Ziva added, knowing this was where Gibbs would go next. "On the night her brother was killed she had her boyfriend over. We spoke to him; he confirmed that Miranda was with him the whole night."

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked, noticing the look on Gibbs' face.

"Ducky found the letter 'M' on Wells' ankle," Gibbs replied. "We're looking at another Main Wave kill."

A pregnant silence followed his announcement.

"So," Gibbs continued after a few moments, "we're going to throw this all under the Main Wave banner, along with the Jasper and Gates homicides. I've spoken with the director – until we solve it, this is our one and only case. Nobody on this team investigates anything else except Main Wave." Then he started issuing orders – key word being _started_. "McGee…"

"…check Kendall Wilcox's bank statements, phone records, credit accounts, etc. On it, boss." McGee was already typing away on his computer.

"Ziva…"

"…speak to any and all known associates of Kendall Wilcox," Ziva finished, her fingers in position on her keyboard.

"DiNozzo…"

"…work on the Main Wave investigation files from Jasper's computer," Tony completed, resting his hand on his mouse.

Gibbs nodded curtly, satisfied, then went up the stairs and disappeared into MTAC.

"Why's he going up there?" Tony wondered, as a pendrive full of information from Col. Jasper's laptop downloaded data into his computer.

"Video conference with Detective Taylor's team," McGee replied absently, peering intently at his monitor screen.

Tony groaned as the files from Jasper's laptop came up. "Oh, _man_."

"What?" Ziva looked up.

"There's tons of these!" Tony said. "She must have been investigating for years."

"She was," McGee pointed out.

Tony muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a swear word. Then he said, in a sugary sweet voice, "You know, Tim – you're better at computer work than I am. How 'bout we swap jobs?"

"Not a chance, Tony."

"Come on!" Tony wheedled. "This is right up your alley!"

"Nope."

Tony sighed, ignoring Ziva's chuckle, and turned to his computer in resignation.

It was going to be a long day.

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><p>"Well, Mr. Wells, it looks like you had quite a rough time of it, didn't you?" Ducky said as he sewed their dead Marine up. "Just like Col. Jasper in New York, you too were tortured – but for what purpose? You were not investigating Main Wave – or were you? Clamp, please, Mr. Palmer," he requested.<p>

It took Palmer a few seconds to realize Ducky was talking to him and not to the victim; once he did, he hurried to place the clamp in the ME's hand.

"Thank you," said Ducky, using the tool to grip the thick wire he'd been using to sew Wells up. "Now the…"

"Cutter, Dr. Mallard," Palmer completed, handing him the desired tool. Ducky smiled.

"Again, thank you, Mr. Palmer." With one quick movement, Ducky snipped the wire, just as Gibb came in.

"What've you got, Duck?"

Ducky exhaled. "Well, COD was fairly obvious – but there were defensive wounds all over his body, and some indication of torture."

"Was he tied up like Jasper?" Gibbs inquired.

"Well, if he was, it wasn't with rope," said Ducky. "There is some bruising around his wrists and ankles, but I found none of the distinctive markings of rope. I did, however, discover traces of an adhesive." Ducky handed Gibbs an evidence bag. "My guess is our major was restrained with duct tape – but the torture methods used on him were not as precise as the ones used on Col. Jasper – in fact, if you'll forgive me for saying so, they were rather crude."

"That confirms that Jasper and Wells weren't killed by the same person," said Gibbs.

"Indeed," Ducky agreed. "I also found traces of some kind of wood chips on our vic's body – Palmer already sent those to Abby."

Said autopsy assistant smiled – rather goofily, it must be admitted.

"And," Ducky continued, picking up another evidence bag, "last but not least, I found this hair on Major Wells' wrist, sticking to some of the adhesive trace." He gave it to Gibbs.

"Good work, Duck," Gibbs praised in his usual understated way. Then he left the morgue with the evidence.

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><p>Tony sighed theatrically as he typed in more of the outline he was constructing based on Jasper's files, then closed a few windows. He was beginning to see why Abby thrived on Caf-Pow – how else were you supposed to stare at a computer screen for hours on end without getting sleepy and cross-eyed?<p>

Beside him, McGee had finished browsing through Kendall Wilcox's electronic tracks and saved the pertinent information – he was now trying, once again, to locate the man himself. Tony chuckled slightly at the goofy look of Timothy McGee in deep concentration as the cyber genius tried to think of some method of location he hadn't yet attempted.

Across from them, Ziva's ear was pressed against the phone's receiver, her fingers tapping impatiently on her desk as she endured yet another waiting period after being put on hold – for the fourth time – by the secretary of one of Kendall's business associates.

"Remind me, Ziva – why didn't you try phoning his relatives?" Tony asked, not caring if he would be incurring the wrath of a Mossad-trained operative; anything had to be better than compiling a report of literally dozens of files.

Ziva huffed in irritation, but she answered, "Because, Tony, both his parents are dead – Huntington's, naturally; his brothers, wife, stepdaughter, and sister-in-law are in New York being tracked by Detective Taylor's team; and none of his other, more distant relatives would know what he's been up to. Not to mention we don't usually interview each and every member of a suspect's extended family." She sighed in exasperation as someone on the other end of the phone call spoke. "Yes, I am _still_ here. _No_, I will not hold for a few more minutes. You tell Mr. Lockwood that NCIS requires his attention _now, _for 'just a few minutes' – and then we are done."

As Ziva argued with the secretary, McGee, coming up blank on finding a new way to locate Kendall, reviewed his notes on the electronic trail while Tony turned back to his too-bright computer screen…then sat up straight for the first time in two hours.

"Oh, this is interesting," he remarked, scrolling down the page he was on. "Yes, this is very interesting."

"Care to share, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, strolling into the area just as Ziva frustratedly banged the phone receiver down. "Problem?" Gibbs inquired.

"You could call it that," Ziva agreed, looking ticked. "Emmett Lockwood is refusing to speak to NCIS about Kendall Wilcox until six o' clock. Apparently he's in some important business meeting that he can't get out of."

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs turned to the senior agent.

"After digging through Col. Jasper's investigation files on Main Wave," began Tony, "I discovered a hitherto unopened file that was tucked away in one of the minor folders. When I opened it, I found some very interesting, very important information that could possibly unlock the whole case."

Gibbs waited. "Well?" he asked.

Tony cleared his throat and brought some files up on the plasma screen. "When I opened the file, I found that while the smuggling ring began and is based in Los Angeles, in recent years it has branched out across the country, with established outposts in major cities like Phoenix, Albuquerque, Dallas, Memphis, Knoxville, and Richmond. Together, they form a smuggling chain that stretches from the Pacific all the way to the Atlantic."

He displayed a map to illustrate his point, causing a red line to trace from Los Angeles to and through all the named cities. "And, they recently completed that chain by setting up a base of operations in Washington, D.C." The red line traveled northeast from Richmond up to the nation's capital, where it stopped. "Main Wave now has a circuit of operations that cuts across the entire continental United States."

"How did they grow so big without anyone catching them?" Ziva questioned, staring at the red line that cut the U.S. in half on the screen.

"They were smart," Tony admitted – a little grudgingly – as he pulled up another set of files. "According to Jasper's research, Main Wave was founded in 1990 as part of a get-rich-quick scheme after a truck transporting gems from a mine in North Carolina was hijacked and a load of jewels was stolen. The cargo was never recovered, because the perpetrators carried the gems all the way to the West Coast, making them hard to track. Obviously, the hijackers made a fortune from grinding, cutting, and polishing the jewels and selling them either to jewelry stores as legit dealers or on the black market. Not surprisingly, our old friend Kendall Wilcox was one of the hijackers, but he was never convicted because of inconclusive evidence."

"Why didn't that come up when we searched his name back in New York?" asked McGee.

"Well, after the jewel heist, everyone involved was pretty rich. Kendall paid someone in the Department of Justice to destroy the case records. It took Jasper years of digging to find the backup copy in the archives." Tony cleared the screen to reveal the United States map once more. "Anyway, after our guys disposed of the loot, someone – I'm betting it was Kendall – suggested they start a business of this. Bada-bing, bada-boom – _voila! _– Main Wave Corporation was born.

"For the first two or three years, Main Wave operated solely from Los Angeles. Then they decided to start expanding their business, and they started a second base of operations in Las Vegas. You know the drill – city full of clubs and casinos, attracting people from all over the world – it was a prime center for business. However, that fizzed out when LVPD cracked down on them after an indiscreet business deal. Apparently Main Wave barely managed to pull out – they ended up losing four or five operatives to the local prison.

"After that, Main Wave was very careful – it was two more years before they decided to try again. This time, they looked at Washington, D.C. as a potential city – but for some reason that is still unknown, Anna Winston – Jasper's friend – got in the way. They killed her and vanished. It's their basic MO – whenever they feel threatened, they pull out and kill whoever might expose them. It's how they've managed to stay undetected all these years. They didn't start scratching 'M's into their victims' ankles until Jasper, though."

"Because Leah Jasper's investigation dug deeper than anyone had ever dug before," Ziva reasoned. "She was a big threat, so they eliminated her accordingly. They felt they had to provide a warning in order to deter anyone from going as far as Jasper had."

"The killer's mistake was not taking Jasper's laptop before we could get to it," added McGee. "Now Main Wave's name has gone public, and people know they're illegal smugglers and not a legitimate company like they've pretended."

"Right," agreed Tony, "which would make selling their stolen jewels very difficult except on the black market."

"I'll check stolen jewelry against CIA records of recent sales," McGee volunteered, already typing.

"The leaders of Main Wave are smart," said Ziva. "The smuggling ring wouldn't have lasted so long if they weren't. I'm sure they will find some way to make the company evolve and continue milking the goat."

Tony resisted the urge to chuckle at the Israelite native's 'Mangled Idiom' for the day. "That's 'milking the cow', Ziva."

Ziva puffed out exasperatedly. "What is the difference?" she demanded. "Goats, cows…they both give milk, do they not?"

"Tony, Ziva, go find Emmett Lockwood," Gibbs instructed. "If he doesn't want to talk to us, we'll have to go get him."

Tony and Ziva nodded and gathered their things within two minutes.

As they got on to the elevator, Gibbs added, "Watch out for the paparazzi."


	5. Chapter Four

_**A/N: Thanks to my reviewers **DizzyDrea **and **leath**, and thanks to **dinna **and **kaner88 **for putting this story on favorites. I admit I was hoping for more reviewers after the success of **Urban Murder**, but****...you can't always get what you want, can you? Anyway, to my loyal readers, here's chapter four for you.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

_14:18, October 31; NY Crime Lab_

Flack breathed a sigh of relief as he finally made it into the safety of the Crime Lab, where the rabid reporters outside couldn't mob him anymore.

"Mac, you gotta do something about those reporters outside," the homicide detective told Mac. "They're getting out of control."

Mac wearily pinched his forehead. "I know," he said. "Sinclair scheduled a press conference at three o' clock – hopefully we can quieten the media long enough for us to solve the judge's murder, at least."

"Quieten the media?" Flack's very tone spoke volumes of skepticism. Mac managed a dry smile.

"One can hope. What do you have for me?"

"I went over to the address Stella got for me for Vincent Wilcox," Flack reported. "There was no one there, but the place looked lived in. So I left Danny and some of my boys there to nab Vincent the minute he comes home. Danny will call when they have him. Then I swung over to check on Marie and Linnaeus – they haven't heard from either Kendall or Vincent. I feel kind of sorry for them, you know. Linnaeus seems harmless enough, for all that he's related to two possible smugglers and killers."

Mac nodded. "What about Janice Bright?"

Flack's face grew solemn. "There's no one there," he told Mac. "Her apartment's empty, but she hasn't used her passport or credit card anywhere, and she wasn't at her mother's place. She's gone off the grid."

Mac straightened, but before he could tell Flack to start hunting for Janice Bright, Adam ran up to them, calling Mac's name.

"Adam," Mac acknowledged. "What is it?"

"Okay, so you know the paper that Dr. Mallard found inside the 'M' on Col. Jasper's ankle?" began Adam. "It was blank when we found it, right?"

"Right," Mac agreed, remembering Lindsay's data and wondering where this was going.

"Well, I asked Lindsay to give it to me to see if I could find anything, because – well, not to brag or anything, but I kinda do have specialized talents that could possibly enable me to find something she missed – not that I'm criticizing her or anything, because I would never do that because she's an awesome investigator, but –"

"Adam," Mac reminded.

The technician took a breath. "Right. So anyway, I took the paper and I left it on the table while I processed Judge Gates' clothes…um, did Stella tell you that I found…"

"Silicon carbide?" Mac smiled. "She did. Go on."

Adam nodded. "Okay, so when I finished processing the clothes, I got back to the paper – only now it wasn't blank anymore."

"Invisible ink?" Flack guessed.

"Exactly," Adam confirmed. "The heat from the light table caused the ink to become visible. It was a simple lemon juice solution – but that's not the important thing here. The main point is what the message was."

"What was the message?" Mac prompted.

"'Janice says hi'."

* * *

><p><em>Washington, D.C.<em>

"Wow, Gibbs wasn't kidding about the paparazzi, was he?" Tony asked in some amazement as he and Ziva finally managed to extricate themselves from the mass of bodies that was the knot of reporters who had cornered them outside Emmett Lockwood's company building.

"This case was _supposed_ to be kept low-profile," Ziva grumbled as they pressed the up button on the elevator. "Now it's anything but."

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

"What floor is Lockwood's meeting on?" Tony inquired.

"Six."

Tony pressed six. Then he turned back to Ziva, who was focusing on the digital numbers that told them where the elevator was.

"So how do you think McGee knew about Abby's costume?" he asked conversationally – but there was an underlying hint of genuine curiosity…and suspicion.

Ziva shrugged, never taking her eyes off the glowing numbers. "Simple. He saw her before they went to work."

Tony ogled at her. She noticed and looked away from the numbers to frown at him.

"You don't think…" Tony began.

"Do not even go there, Tony," Ziva warned.

"But…" he protested.

"It is none of our business."

"But if he saw her before…"

"It is not necessarily what you're thinking," Ziva told him. "Just because he saw Abby this morning before any of us did does not mean that they are seeing each other. He could have seen her costume before today, or she could have told him."

"Abby _never _tells anyone what she's wearing for Halloween," Tony pointed out. "It's kind of a thing with her. She likes to surprise people."

"I am not having this conversation with you."

"Oh, come on, Ziv–"

"We're here." Ziva stepped out of the elevator quickly, cutting the conversation short.

* * *

><p>Abby tapped her bootlaced foot in time to the sharp beat of the latest song playing in her lab as she waited for the results on the evidence she'd been given.<p>

A short, staccato beep sounded from her computer, and she grinned as she said, "Hi, Gibbs," before she even turned around.

Gibb didn't smile, but he looked amused – either by her greeting or her Batgirl costume, or both. "Abs," he acknowledged, handing her an extra-large cup of Caf-Pow. Abby smiled brilliantly and took a long sip before sighing in contentment.

"I love this drink," she said in satisfaction. "The only thing I didn't like about New York was that it didn't have Caf-Pow. How can it not have Caf-Pow?"

"Abs."

"Right." Abby got herself back on track. "So I processed the knife used to kill our vic – it's a multi-purpose kitchen knife, the kind you use to chop meat or something – but it's huge, and it's a scary kitchen knife which personally, I think should be classified as a lethal weapon. Anyway, I found epithelials on the handle that aren't a match to anyone in this case so far – they don't have a donor from CODIS or any other database, either. But I can tell you that they're from a male with either blue or grey eyes, and he's most likely a thrill seeker. Did you know there's actually an enzyme in DNA that's been associated with thrill-seeking activities in a person?" she asked. "It's called the monoamine oxidase enzyme, and this guy, whoever he is, has it big time. I've also confirmed that the adhesive trace Ducky found on the vic's wrists and ankles definitely came from duct tape. But here's the real kicker." Abby referred to her computer for the next bit of her evidence exposé.

"The wood chips on the vic come from _Quercus lobata _– more commonly known as the Valley Oak tree," she went on. "It's indigenous to southern California. Guess what else is in southern California?" She barely paused before answering her own question. "Los Angeles, that's what. At some time soon before he killed Major Wells, our killer was in Los Angeles."

"Good work, Abs." Gibbs started out of the room, but Abby called him back.

"Wait! I'm not done yet. I saved the best for last." She was positively gleeful as she said, "When I analyzed the hair that Ducky found on our vic's wrist, I found that it had a male DNA profile that didn't match the epithelials on the knife. But guess what it _did _match."

Gibbs said nothing; only looked at her pointedly.

"No, I'm serious, guess," Abby urged.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. Abby sighed, giving in.

"Fine," she acquiesced, right before a wide grin stretched her lips. "The hair matched the DNA from the Jasper crime scene in New York – the DNA with Huntington's that's a filial match to Linnaeus Wilcox. At some point before Wells was murdered, his killer came into contact with Jasper's killer. I can confirm that it wasn't either of the Wilcox brothers who killed Wells, because the epithelials I pulled from the knife didn't have the genetic code for Huntington's – but seeing how Kendall Wilcox flew to Washington, D.C. and we haven't caught him trying to go anywhere else, I'd bet good money that it was Kendall who was with Wells' killer, and since Vincent Wilcox didn't come to D.C. – that we know of, at least – I think it's pretty safe to say that Kendall killed Col. Jasper in New York, and…"

Abby suddenly stopped and looked around the lab; Gibbs was already gone. The Goth girl was used to it, though; so she simply shrugged and smiled as she took another huge sip of her Caf-Pow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Ah, Abby, Abby, Abby. I seriously love her. By the way, the thrill-seeking enzyme thingy actually exists. I did my research ;)**_


	6. Chapter Five

**_A/N: Thanks to my readers _**_ladyyuuki16 **and **leath **for reviewing, and thanks to **teaflowers, shipperheart, **and **c__si-twilight-numb3rs **for adding this story either to alerts or favorites.**_

_**The two teams will not, in fact, meet each other again in this story - not in person, anyway. They do have vide-conferences, but no actual face to face meeting. We had that in **Urban Murder._

_**Anyway, today, Emmet Lockwood faces the wrath of Ziva David ;) I wouldn't like to be him.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

_14:49, October 31; EEL Inc., Washington, D.C._

Emmett Ethan Lockwood was proud of his name – and his initials. His friends and family called him 'Double E'; his coworkers and competitors called him 'the Eel'. With good reason – he was as slippery as an eel, and as smooth as a snake. It was how he'd worked his way to the top of the corporate ladder with his company in less than four years. To him, his job was everything. Right now he was negotiating a business deal that would take him a big step further in his career – and he couldn't waste time talking to some federal agency about a case he knew nothing about.

"Therefore, as you can see, it would be in your best interests to –"

Lockwood was interrupted by the sound of the door opening and his secretary sticking her head in, a nervous expression on her face. Emmett Lockwood did _not _like to be disturbed when he was in the middle of a meeting.

"Um, Mr. Lockwood…" she began in a timid voice, cowering when he scowled at her, "I'm sorry…I couldn't stop them…"

"I think we can do our own introductions, thank you," a light male voice said from outside, just before the door was pushed open to reveal the intruders – a light-haired man and a brunette woman who looked foreign.

"Emmett Lockwood?" the woman inquired.

Lockwood scowled fiercer. "Yes. As you can see, I'm in the middle of an important business meeting." He gestured at the people seated at the conference table. "Whatever it is you want, please wait outside until –"

"Sorry, Emmett," the man cut him off. "No can do. You didn't answer our phone calls, so we had to come get you."

"Who are you?" Lockwood demanded.

"NCIS," Ziva told him while his secretary looked on apologetically. "I'm Agent David. This is Agent DiNozzo."

Lockwood looked exasperated. "Look, I told you people that I'm busy…"

"Sorry, murdered Marine takes precedence over a possibly illegal business meeting," Tony interjected brightly, annoying Lockwood no end.

"Illegal?" he repeated. "I'll have you know this is a completely law-abiding –"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Tony. "So listen: we've got questions to ask you, and you'd sure as hell better answer them. Now, we can do it in here or somewhere else, but we're not leaving till we get some answers."

"What's it going to be?" Ziva added.

Lockwood frowned his displeasure, but he knew when he was beaten. "Excuse me, gentlemen," he said to his business associates. "I apologize for this unprofessional interruption, but I must take care of this. We'll take a twenty-minute break and resume at ten past two. Agents, if you'll follow me."

"Twenty minutes, huh?" Tony remarked casually as he and Ziva followed Lockwood to his office. "How sure are you it won't take longer?"

"It had better _not _take longer, or I'm pressing charges," Lockwood retorted stiffly.

"For what?" Ziva demanded.

"Harassment." Lockwood sat down at his desk, looking every inch the big, displeased corporate CEO. "Make it quick."

Ziva frowned at his condescending manner, but decided not to comment on it. Instead she asked, "How do you know Kendall Wilcox?"

"He's a business associate."

"What kind of business associate?" Tony pressed.

"EEL Incorporated holds shares in several types of companies," replied Lockwood. "We deal with many different people of various occupations. Kendall supplies the stock for our jewelry branches."

"You do know Kendall Wilcox is the face of Main Wave Corporation, right?" said Ziva. She knew full well Lockwood didn't; they had spread the news about Main Wave, but not the fact that Kendall was the head of it.

Ziva's question, however, had the intended effect on Emmett Lockwood; he sat up straight, his don't-care attitude gone.

"What?" he asked hoarsely.

"You know the smuggling ring that's been all over the news?" said Tony. "Yeah, Kendall's working for them. You've been buying stolen goods."

"My God…" Lockwood whispered in shock. "Do you have any idea what this would _do _to our reputation?"

"I know." Tony didn't sound at all sympathetic. "It's not looking good, is it? But, if you answer our questions, we'll make sure to mention that you had no idea you were aiding an illegal operation and cooperated fully with the investigation."

"What do you want to know?" Gone was the haughty, self-assured CEO from before; upon learning of the threat to his company and his reputation (and his income), Emmett Lockwood had become a source of information any law enforcement officer would love to have.

"How did you contact Kendall Wilcox?" Ziva queried.

"We had a standing appointment every six months. We'd meet and arrange a deal, and then we'd part ways until the next meeting."

"How did you pay him?"

"By check. I'd write him one for the required amount every time we met."

"Cash in advance?" Tony sounded surprised. "Not a very astute way of doing business."

Here Lockwood lapsed back into his arrogant speech, looking irritated. "I am not stupid, Agent DiNozzo. I paid him half the money in advance, the other half on delivery. He never failed."

"You had no issues with the merchandise?" Ziva quizzed. "There were no defects or shortcomings you had to discuss with him?"

"No. Like I said, he never failed. He was a very competent businessman. Always, two weeks after we made our deal, he would deliver the gems, like clockwork. I quite liked dealing with him."

"When is the next meeting scheduled for?"

"January."

Ziva exchanged a glance with Tony.

"That's too far away," said Tony, voicing what they were both thinking. "Do you have any other method of communication with him?"

Lockwood shrugged. "Email."

"We're gonna need that address."

* * *

><p><em>15:06, October 31; Outside the New York Crime Lab<em>

The front of the Crime Lab was completely occupied with news reporters, cameramen, and photographers who took flash pictures of every other thing every other minute. There was barely enough space for the portable podium that had been set up earlier, and that Chief of Detectives Sinclair was speaking from.

"These killings are not random," he hastened to assure the public. "Main Wave is only targeting those who threaten to expose their shady dealings. If anyone has any information about this smuggling ring, I urge them to report to the nearest police station. They will be given protective custody until we have caught this killer. In the meantime, I'll pass this over to Detective Mac Taylor to answer your questions regarding the investigation." He stepped down from the podium and gave Mac a pointed look as the latter stepped up.

"Detective, where is Main Wave based?" one reporter asked.

"At this time, we can't confirm any single city as a base of operations," Mac replied. "New York and Washington D.C. are areas of recent activity, nothing more – but I would advise everyone to take caution nonetheless."

"Are we looking at a possible serial killer?" someone else queried.

"No," Mac answered. "Main Wave specializes in smuggling, not murder. The victims so far have been killed only because they posed a threat to Main Wave, as Detective Sinclair pointed out."

"What about Judge Gates?" another person inquired. "How did he threaten the smuggling ring?"

"We have reason to believe he may have put one of Main Wave's operatives in prison." Mac was careful not to say exactly _whom _the judge had put in prison; if Janice Bright was innocent, he didn't want unproved rumors flying about.

The next question was incredibly hard to answer without compromising the investigation.

"Detective, what makes you so sure these murders are the work of one killer? Isn't it possible that there are multiple killers working for Main Wave?"

Mac stiffened imperceptibly, hoping to God that wasn't who he thought it was – but there was Reed, in the front line, awaiting the answer to his unwanted query.

Mac decided to go out on a limb – while in the back of his mind, he resolved to speak to Reed about this later…firmly. "It's possible," he conceded – but before the media could work itself into a frenzy, he hastily added, "but we have no conclusive evidence that points to that fact." It was true – not _solidly _conclusive, anyway. It was technically enough to hold up in court, but Mac wasn't going to say that. "The MOs of the murders are inconsistent, but killers have been known to vary their technique on occasion to avoid capture – more so if they've been hired to do so.

"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation, but I can promise that none of my team will rest until we catch whoever is responsible for these murders," he finished.

"But, Detective…" someone – not Reed, thank God – protested.

"No further questions." Mac said it with finality; then he stepped down from the podium and retreated into the lab.

"Rough time?" Stella asked sympathetically as Mac came into the conference room.

He sighed tiredly. "You have no idea." He decided not to mention that Reed had been there – that was for him to handle. He turned to the rest of his team, who were seated at the table. Lindsay, Flack, Adam, and even Sid were all there to help make sense of all the bits and pieces of information they had. Hawkes was there too, his injured arm resting in a sling; the only one absent was Danny, who was still waiting for Vincent Wilcox to come home. "What do we know?"

"The note on Jasper indicates that Janice Bright knew about her murder," Lindsay started. "That makes her an accomplice, which means we can arrest her if we find her."

"I've got my boys looking in every corner of the city for her," said Flack. "We'll find her."

"Bright is also a suspect in Judge Gates' murder," Hawkes added. "We've ruled her out in the Jasper homicide, but she had the time and motive to kill Gates."

"But Gates disappeared four days before Sid's TOD," said Stella. "If Bright has holding him all that time, where was she keeping him?"

"She wasn't," Adam interjected. "I checked Gates' phone records. The last business call he made was to a colleague. He asked him to inform the department that he wouldn't be coming in to work for the next week, but his colleague forgot to mention it."

"Right, so that accounts for his mysterious absence," said Lindsay.

"It also leaves the window wide open for Bright to murder him," Flack supplemented. "All she had to do was walk into him on the street at seven in the morning and take the opportunity to strangle him with a convenient rope."

"She is the type to hold grudges," Hawkes agreed. "The silicon carbide could have been secondary transfer from someone else in the smuggling ring – or she could have been working for them herself."

"There was no evidence on the shooters who attacked Stella and Sheldon that pointed to Main Wave or any of the murders," Sid put in, somewhat regretfully.

"Where are we on Jasper?" Mac inquired as Flack's cell phone rang and he answered it.

"We've managed to confirm beyond a doubt that it's only either Kendall or Vincent Wilcox who killed her," Stella replied. "Kendall's in D.C., so we can't do anything about him – but we're still waiting for Vincent to show up at his house."

"The wait's over," Flack announced, snapping his phone shut. "That was Danny. He's got Vincent Wilcox in custody."


	7. Chapter Six

_**A/N: Hehehe. Today, we get some answers from a certain Wilcox brother - and also, we see a very firm step in...something. You'll find out what that something is in the last scene of this chapter. **_

_**Thanks to my two reviewers **DizzyDrea ** and **leath**, and thanks to **kateadams **for adding this story to favorites.**_

_**This is the longest chapter yet, so...buckle up and enjoy the ride.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Six<strong>

_15:30, October 31; Abby's Lab, NCIS Headquarters, Washington, D.C._

Abby was boxing up some evidence in her lab when Tony and Ziva came in, arguing loudly.

"It was not necessary to stop for that doughnut!" Ziva was saying irritably.

"Hey, I was hungry; I was getting low on blood sugar," Tony countered. "Believe me, you do not want to see me when I'm low on blood sugar."

"I'd rather see you low than high," Ziva retorted. "When you have sugar in you you act like a kid with too many sweets."

"Ouch, that hurts."

"Hey, guys," Abby said brightly. Tony stopped dead in his tracks; then he smiled.

"I see what Palmer and McGeek were going on about," he said. "Awesome costume, Abby."

Abby grinned and swished her Batgirl cape. "Thank you, Tony. What do you have for me?"

In response, Tony held up a slip of paper. "That's the address Lockwood used to contact Kendall Wilcox," he told her as she took it from him. "We need you to track it."

"And here I was hoping you were going to give me something challenging." Abby smirked as she took the address to her computer and typed it in. "Why'd you come all the way down to my lab, though? McGee could have easily done it."

Tony hesitated. "Well, I…" he began.

"He wanted to see your costume." Ziva barely paused before adding, "And he wanted to question you about McGee."

Abby didn't even look away from her computer. "What about McGee?"

"You know what?" said Tony with a chuckle. "It doesn't matter. Forget it."

Abby stopped her typing to stare at him, the challenge clear in her eyes. "Tony. What. About. McGee?"

"Um…" Tony shuffled about. He was starting to think this wasn't a good idea.

Fortunately for him, just at that moment, Abby's computer beeped and she turned her attention to it; what she saw excited her to such an extent that she forgot all about Tony's question.

"Okay, Kendall Wilcox just logged on to his email," she reported quickly, typing away. "I'm triangulating his position right now…and…got it!" she crowed jubilantly. "I have an address. Cyber café on the Southwest Waterfront."

"This is streaming live?" Ziva asked.

"Of course."

"Let's go," said Tony, already moving, his phone out to call Gibbs.

* * *

><p><em>NYPD Precinct, New York<em>

Vincent Wilcox was forty-two years old – still fairly young by today's standards – but his Huntington's made him seem older than he was. There were tired, age-worn wear lines on his skin, and he had trouble controlling his limbs to do even the littlest things. His face was haggard and wrinkled, his body weak…Danny might actually have felt sorry for him, if it wasn't for the fact that he'd played a large part in Leah Jasper's death.

Besides, Vincent Wilcox might look dull and weary, but his eyes were still bright and alert – they possessed an intelligent spark that showed the man he was beneath his careworn mask. Vincent Wilcox was not a man who had given up hope – he was a man who still had something to fight for, and make no doubt he was fighting for it. His attendance at the Huntington's trial at the Lutheran Medical Center proved that.

But believe it or not, that was a good thing. People who fought, fought because they still believed they had a chance. They had a certain amount of faith that enabled them to fight, whereas a person who had given up all hope was just…empty.

There was a reason spy agencies prized employees who no longer had anything to lose. People who had given up had nothing left to fight for themselves – they fought what their superiors told them to fight. People who had nothing to lose would see no reason to bargain for anything – because they didn't have anything worth enough to them to bargain for. They couldn't be broken – because they already were broken.

On the other hand, people who still fought – _they_ still had hope. _They _didn't fight simply because their superiors told them too. _They _had their own battles to fight. _They _would bargain.

_They_ could be broken.

While it was actually quite a cruel cycle, in this instance, it worked in their favor – because Vincent Wilcox could be pressured to give them information they needed. Vincent Wilcox could be broken, and then they would be that much closer to solving the biggest case they'd ever had.

And what made it even better was that they had an ace in the hole.

"You killed a woman five days ago," Danny informed Vincent coldly, slapping a crime scene photo of Leah Jasper down in front of him. "I wanna know why."

Vincent took one look at the photo and pushed it away. "That's what this is about?" He sniffed. "I didn't kill that woman, Detective."

"Ah, now, see – that'syou lying through your teeth to me," Danny told him. "Lying to a police officer – I can book you on obstruction of justice right now, but I'm not gonna bother, 'cause we have you" – he jabbed a finger in Vincent's direction – "on her murder." He pointed at the photo, not missing the way Vincent flinched when he did. "Murder in the first degree, by the way. That's the term we use for premeditated homicide. You went to that hotel with the intention of killing her."

"I did _not _kill that woman," Vincent insisted.

"Her name," Danny went on, ignoring him, "was Leah Jasper. She was a lieutenant-colonel in the United States Navy. A Marine."

"I didn't kill her."

"She had friends and family who cared about her. She was a Bronze Star recipient. She served her country to the best of her ability. And you killed her – but not before you tortured her."

"I didn't!"

"You really made her suffer, didn't you?" Danny opened the Jasper case file and read from Sid's autopsy report. "Numerous bruises, multiple lacerations, two fractured ribs, a dislocated shoulder, internal bleeding…I could go on."

"You've got this _all _wrong!"

"And when that all didn't work," Danny continued, raising his voice to match Vincent's increasing pitch, "you found something else to get her to talk. You turned her own swimming cap into a method of torture. You filled it with water from the pool and forced it over her head until she was choking for breath. Only you held it down too long, didn't you?"

"I. Didn't. Kill her!"

"See, drowning's a very precise form of torture," said Danny. "You've gotta cut off the air flow for just long enough to make your victim suffer, but you have to let them take a breath before they suffocate to death. There's a fine line between leaving your victim suffering but alive, and leaving them dead. I'm guessing your Huntington's made it difficult for you to remove the cap when you should have, and so instead of torturing Leah, you killed her. She drowned and cut short your torture session because you held the cap down too long."

"I tell you I didn't!" Vincent shouted.

"And when you realized she was dead," Danny pushed on relentlessly, "you carved the 'M' into her leg and slipped this into the wound." He slid the plastic evidence bag containing the note across the table. "You can't see the message now 'cause you cleverly decided to write it in invisible ink, but you and I both know what it says."

"I didn't do any of those things!" Vincent burst out, jumping up violently from his chair. "I didn't sneak into the hotel; I didn't tie up Leah; I didn't torture her; and I most _definitely _did _not _kill her!"

"Sit down!" Danny ordered angrily. Vincent reluctantly lowered himself back in the chair, trying to still his shaking limbs. "You just admitted your guilt, Vincent. I never said anything about Jasper being tied up."

"Listen to me closely, Detective, because this is the last time I'm going to say it. _I. Did. Not. Kill. Leah!_"

"Yeah, you're right," said Danny coldly. "That's the last time you're gonna say it, because you _did _kill Leah…and do everything I've just described to you." He withdrew two sheets of paper from the case file and showed them to Vincent. "You see that?" he asked, pointing to the DNA and fingerprint analysis Adam had performed. "The DNA and fingerprints we took from you is an exact match to what we found at the crime scene – and that result right there proves it."

Vincent stared at the paper, his face paling suddenly.

"We have you at the scene, Vincent!" Danny said loudly. "We've got your fingerprints on Jasper's wallet and your blood on her towel. She went down fighting, didn't she? Gave you that cut on your face." He looked pointedly at the healing wound on Vincent's jaw. When Vincent didn't speak, he said, "You killed Leah Jasper, Vincent, and we know it. You can hire the best criminal defense attorney you want – the court is not gonna dispute evidence this solid. What you can do is give us information we want right now, and I can arrange for certain privileges for you in prison. Maybe they'll even let you out once a week to attend that drug trial of yours."

"I don't have anything you'd want to know," Vincent said sullenly.

"No?" said Danny. "How about Judge Gates' murder? Let's start with that."

Vincent laughed harshly. "You want to know who killed the judge? Go talk to Janice Bright. She was the one who gave me that note to put in the Marine bitch in the first place. She said she'd love to do it herself, but she had somewhere to be. Three days later the judge responsible for her conviction turns up dead. So you tell me, Detective – who should you be investigating?"

Danny's face was hard as he said, "Thanks for the tip. Anything else?"

"Yeah," said Vincent, his cocky, no-one-can-touch-me attitude returning all of a sudden. "You're never gonna get a conviction to stick. My family's got connections in high places, and they have ways of getting what they want. You just watch – I'll walk out of the court room scot free."

"If you mean your brother, we've got federal agents hot on his tail in D.C.," said Danny. "He's not gonna be able to bail you out."

Vincent snorted. "I'm not talking about _Kendall_. You clearly know nothing if you think I'm expecting _him _to help."

Danny frowned. This was news. "What do you mean?"

"You're the detective. Figure it out. I'm not saying another word."

Losing his temper at last, Danny called for the officers outside the door. "Get this joker outta my face."

* * *

><p><em>Washington, D.C.<em>

"Look, look," Tony said, directing a subtle gaze at the man on the computer to his right. "There he is."

"Kendall Wilcox." Ziva was careful to keep her voice low. "Gibbs, we have eyes on the suspect."

_"Surround him and close in," _Gibbs commanded over the comms.

Tony and Ziva separated to flank Kendall's left and right, while Gibbs and McGee entered the cyber café and unobtrusively moved to cut him off.

"Kendall Wilcox?" Gibbs asked once he was right on top of him.

Kendall startled and was out of his chair and running to his side in a flash. Tony blocked his path.

"Easy there," he said mockingly. "You don't wanna hurt yourself."

Moving faster than someone with Huntington's should be able to, Kendall switched direction and rammed into McGee, who was unable to get his weapon out in time. Instead, the computer genius was the one who ended up pinned against Kendall with a gun pressed to his temple.

"Let me go," Kendall demanded while the rest of the café panicked, "or I'll kill him." His voice was shaky, but his resolve was steel. He would blow McGee's head off if they didn't find a way to neutralize him.

"Drop the gun, Kendall," Gibbs ordered. He, Tony, and Ziva were all aiming their guns straight at Kendall.

"I will do it," Kendall said, squishing McGee tighter against him. "I swear I will."

Unfortunately for Kendall – and luckily for the agents – his Huntington's chose to intervene just then. The hand that was clenching the gun spasmed and shook; the gun dropped to the floor. McGee took the opportunity to elbow him in the ribs while Ziva moved in to restrain his arms behind his back.

"You okay, Tim?" Tony inquired, still pointing his gun.

"Yeah, I'm good," McGee replied. He was remarkably calm, considering he'd just had a gun pointed at his head. "Let's get him back to HQ."

* * *

><p>"But it doesn't make any sense!" Abby complained to Adam via the video conference call the two analysts had set up to talk about the latest developments in their departments' separate cases. "The hair we got from Daniel Wells' body came back a match to the DNA from the Jasper crime scene, which would mean that that hair had to travel from New York to D.C. But since Kendall Wilcox was the one who made the trip, and not Vincent, how the heck did Vincent Wilcox's hair end up on Wells?"<p>

Adam, on his end, looked just as stumped. _"Maybe Kendall was at the Jasper crime scene," _he suggested hesitantly.

"He wasn't the one who bled there, Adam," Abby pointed out. "You guys confirmed that Vincent Wilcox was the donor of the blood on the towel and the fingerprints on Jasper's wallet. And Kendall doesn't have a wound on his body – he couldn't have been at the crime scene."

_"Secondary transfer?" _Adam proposed.

"Possible," Abby conceded, "but what are the odds of Vincent's hair being transferred from him to Kendall, all the way to D.C., to Wells' killer, to Wells? It should have fallen off long before it reached Wells."

_"You're sure the hair was from Wells and not from someone or something else?" _

"Positive," Abby confirmed. "And besides, none of us even met Vincent Wilcox."

Adam shrugged helplessly. But before he could say anything else, Abby suddenly brightened. "Oh, wait a minute – I think I know."

_"What?" _Adam asked.

"I'll tell you when I confirm," Abby told him. She cut off his protests by terminating the call.

McGee came in just then, and Abby spun to face him, concern written all over her face.

"McGee!" she exclaimed, running over to hug him. He smiled.

"Hey, Abby."

"Are you okay?" she inquired anxiously.

"How did you –" he began, but when she raised her eyebrow, he decided not to continue. "I'm fine," he assured her.

"Oh, good." Abby breathed a huge sigh of relief. "In that case…"

She smacked him across the face. Startled, McGee reached up to rub his cheek.

"Ow! What was that for?" he demanded.

"_That_ was for getting yourself into danger," she told him.

"But I didn't –" he started to object; but she hushed him with a wave of her hand and a commanding "Shh!".

"And _this_," she continued in a softer tone, a smile spreading across her face, "is for safely getting yourself out of it."

And she kissed him soundly on the lips.

"Abby," he murmured when she pulled away, "you know it wasn't my fault, right? And I didn't exactly do anything to make him drop the gun…"

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug, cocking her head slightly. Then she kissed him again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Oh, yup! I'm a McAbby fan =) They should so get back together on the show.**_


	8. Chapter Seven

**_A/N: I'm in a bit of a hurry today, so I'm afraid I can't do anything more than post this chapter with a minimum of an author's note. I'll make up for it tomorrow, though. So sorry._**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Seven<strong>

_08:30, November 1; Interrogation, NCIS Headquarters_

"That's him?" Director Leon Vance turned his head from the one-way mirror in the observation room to eye Gibbs. "That's the leader of the Main Wave smuggling ring?"

Gibbs nodded shortly. "That's him."

Vance peered intently at the brown-haired man hunched in the chair in the interrogation room beyond the wall.

"Doesn't look like he'll be easy to break," the NCIS director observed.

"He's been stewing in there since yesterday afternoon."

Vance turned back to Gibbs to scrutinize the former Marine again. "You're sure about this?"

Gibbs remained calm and neutral as he gave him a one-shoulder shrug – which Vance had learned meant 'we'll see' – before taking a sip from his coffee cup.

"And you're doing the interrogation, I suppose," Vance presumed.

"Nope." Gibbs took another swig of his coffee. Vance raised an eyebrow.

"No?" he repeated. "Then who is?"

"They are." Gibbs directed his gaze at their window to the room where Kendall Wilcox was sitting; Ziva and McGee were just entering.

Vance's eyebrow rose even higher, bringing his other one halfway up as well. "I can understand Agent David, but Agent McGee?" he questioned.

"You don't think he's ready for the big fish?" Gibbs challenged.

"I trust your judgment, Gibbs," Vance replied, "but I would like to know what makes you think so."

Gibbs didn't respond immediately; instead, he finished off the remainder of his coffee before answering. Vance was used to his silences, though – so he simply waited Gibbs out.

"Wilcox threatened to shoot him yesterday, but he didn't even flinch," Gibbs said finally.

"He's done that before," Vance pointed out. "It's not the first time he's been threatened."

"This was different," Gibbs disagreed. "Wilcox isn't an average bad guy; and this isn't an average case. He's ready, Leon."

Vance didn't reply in words; he gave a quick bob of his head and turned to watch the interrogation. McGee and Ziva, after taking their time approaching Kendall, had now taken up strategic interrogation positions – McGee was sitting in the chair on the other side of the table, directly opposite Kendall; Ziva was standing with her arms crossed in the corner most visible to their quarry.

The sound of a door opening reached Vance's ears, and he and Gibbs turned to see Abby quietly and somewhat timidly entering the observation room. Abby, now that Halloween was over, had reverted back to her black Goth outfits, high-heeled boots, and pigtails.

"I didn't miss it, did I?" she asked, looking at Gibbs, who shook his head, a fond expression on his face as he regarded his favorite employee.

"Cool." Abby smiled and closed the door before crossing over to where Gibbs and Vance stood. "It's Tim's first big interrogation; I don't wanna miss it." She fixed her eyes on McGee's form.

And then Ducky and Tony came in, opening and closing the door once more.

"I brought popcorn," said Tony as he offered Abby some from his box.

Vance raised his eyebrow again, and looked at Gibbs for an explanation; Gibbs shrugged and turned back to the interrogation scene.

"You're a hard man to find, you know that?" McGee was saying conversationally to Kendall. "When we were in New York we tracked down your brother, his wife, your wife, and your stepdaughter – and none of them could tell us where you were. You escaped our radar until you booked that flight to D.C. – and then you disappeared again."

Kendall said nothing. McGee continued, "It was a one-way flight, incidentally. Why's that?"

Kendall raised an eyebrow skeptically. "You got me at last and you ask why I booked a one-way flight, of all questions?"

McGee shrugged, nonchalant. "I'm curious. Your family's in New York. What reason would you have to come to D.C.?"

Kendall chuckled; the sound was dark and chilling. "All right, Agent, I'll play your game." He leaned forward, clasping his hands on the table. "I didn't know when I was going to go back. Why waste money on a return flight I'm not gonna use?"

"I don't know," said McGee. "Why'd you post bail for Janice?"

"She's my daughter, Agent McGee," Kendall replied as if it should be obvious. "Why shouldn't I post bail for her?"

"Stepdaughter," McGee corrected.

"It doesn't make a difference to me; why should it to you?"

"Ah, classic deflection technique," Ducky analyzed, utilizing his psychology studies. "This man is dangerous, Jethro – he's trying to turn the tables on us by responding to questions with questions."

"It was $30,000," McGee responded. "You posted it in cash."

Kendall shrugged; the movement was awkward, jerky – his Huntington's was clearly getting worse. "So?"

"In thirty stacks of ten $100 bills each," McGee continued. "Where did you get that money?"

Kendall exhaled and shifted his weight. "There are any number of wealthy people in the world, Agent McGee. I happen to have the good fortune to be one of them. Since when did that become a crime?"

"Since you made your fortune smuggling jewels across the country."

"You go, Elf Lord," Tony murmured as McGee's response elicited the first startled reaction from Kendall.

McGee gauged the reaction he got from Kendall for a few seconds before abruptly asking, "Why did you kill Major Daniel Wells?"

Kendall blinked, caught off guard. "I didn't kill anyone," he denied.

"We found your hair on Wells' dead body," Ziva interjected bluntly from her corner, drawing Kendall's attention. "Care to explain that?"

"How do you know it's my hair?" Kendall countered. "You haven't taken any DNA samples from me."

In response, McGee placed a copy of Abby's test results on the table.

"When we tested the hair from Wells' body, we found that it was a match to the DNA at the scene of Col. Jasper's homicide in New York City."

"I was nowhere near that scene."

"I'm not finished." McGee continued smoothly, "Detectives in New York got your brother Vincent for Col. Jasper's murder yesterday. When we found out, we started wondering how his hair could have gotten on Wells."

"So why are you asking me about this?" Kendall demanded. "Shouldn't you be asking Vincent?"

"Well, we thought it was quite impossible for Vincent's hair to end up in D.C., since he never left New York," said McGee. "So we retested the DNA of the hair. It came back negative for a match to Vincent."

"Again, I can't see how you connected it to me, since you didn't take any DNA samples," Kendall reminded.

McGee simply smiled knowingly at him. "The first result matched Vincent's DNA because of the similarities between your DNA as brothers and because of mutations caused by the Huntington's gene. The second result revealed that the hair was not an exact match to Vincent, but it _was _a filial match – which means it came from one of his brothers. We tested it against the DNA sample from Linnaeus, but it still didn't match. That only leaves you."

There was silence in the room. Kendall, for the first time since yesterday, looked nervous.

Ziva allowed the silence to continue for a few moments before saying, "So again, I will ask you: how did your hair end up on Major Wells' body?" As she spoke, she slowly walked towards the table with precise, calculated movements.

Kendall gulped. "I don't know."

Ziva had reached the table by now; she was now standing just next to the chair McGee was sitting in. In a few strides she crossed the distance around the table and lowered her head so she could speak in Kendall's ear.

"Wrong answer."

"I don't know!" Kendall cried angrily.

"Well, the answer is simple," said Ziva. "Either you killed Daniel Wells, or you know the person who did. Which is it?"

"Neither."

"Oh, come on," Ziva said. "We've linked you to Main Wave. That alone is enough to get you a sentence of up to five years – and I don't think you have a lot of time left to live. With your Huntington's, I'm willing to bet that by the time you get out of jail, you'll be nothing more than a gibbering mass of uncontrollable nerves – and that's if you haven't died yet. Is that really what you want?"

Kendall remained stoic, but his fingers twitched on the table, and his pupils dilated noticeably as he contemplated the horror of what Ziva was saying. She'd found the chink in his armor, and she knew it.

"Duck?" Gibbs queried.

"Ziva has done a good job," Ducky observed. "His disease is the one thing that can break Kendall Wilcox. We have a very good chance of getting the information out of him now."

"You're lucky in the sense that your particular strain of Huntington's is unusually mild," Ziva pressed on, mercilessly. "Otherwise you'd already be dead. But still, you've probably only got two or three years left. Four at the most. Do you want to spend them in jail?"

Kendall's eyes narrowed. "Are you saying I _won't _go to jail if I help you?"

"If you cooperate, there are certain measures we can take to ensure you still have a limited amount of freedom," Ziva replied. "Your illness would make you eligible for house arrest. You wouldn't even have to go to prison."

"Of course, that's only if you're telling the truth and you _didn't _kill anyone," added McGee. "The court tends to take a sterner view on homicides – there might be nothing we can do to lighten your sentence." He let that sink in, and then continued, "But, if all you're guilty of is smuggling, we can definitely work something out." He paused. "The offer applies even if you've conspired to commit murder – as long as you didn't actually do the deed."

"Are we really offering that much to the guy?" Tony asked Gibbs.

"Maybe."

"There is a deadline on this deal, Kendall," Ziva informed him. "If you don't accept it before we walk out of this room, you will be charged with jewel smuggling, corporate scam, obstruction of justice, resisting arrest, assault of a federal agent, and conspiracy to commit murder."

"That's a long list," McGee put in.

Kendall's entire body was trembling now. His bravado was gone – Ziva's clinical prediction of his disease's progression had deflated it completely. But he still didn't speak. McGee sighed a dramatic sigh that would – and did – make Tony proud.

"All right, then," he said, with the air of one resigned to an inevitable and not-so-favorable fate as he gathered his documents together. He made a show of replacing everything back in the file, and made sure to make an audible clang on the metal table as he rapped the sheaf of papers against it. Then he and Ziva both made their way to the door, walking at a slow-normal pace.

A split second after Ziva opened the door, Kendall called, "Wait."

Exchanging knowing glances, the two NCIS agents returned to the table. Kendall was slumped in his chair, an air of resigned defeat apparent in every part of his body.

"We're in," Ducky said with a smile as Kendall slowly began to tell Ziva and McGee what he knew.

Abby grinned from ear to ear, full to bursting with pride for McGee. Tony popped the last of his popcorn in his mouth, resolving to praise the more junior agent once and only once before going back to teasing him – and Ziva, of course.

And Vance muttered a simple, "Well done," to Gibbs before exiting the room.


	9. Chapter Eight

_**A/N: Yesss! I'm more relaxed today, so I can take a little time to answer your questions. First off, thanks to** __leath, miss37, **and **TwilightPon__y21 **for reviewing the last two chapters, and thanks to **AngieFaye76 **for her author alert and author favorite of yours truly ;) Additional thanks to all my reviewers for all your praise and compliments. It's really very nice to know I'm doing these awesome shows justice.  
><strong>_

___**Now, about McGee and Abby...they are officially back together as a couple in this fic, but the rest of the team doesn't know that (obviously). **__**As for today's chapter - it's the second last of this story, and it settles most of the issues that carried over from the first story - but, as this is still only the second story of the trilogy, it must also pose new problems and new questions, mustn't it? Heehee.**_

_**Also today, we get back to two characters we haven't seen since **Urban Murder **- Marie and Linnaeus Wilcox. Let's give them a welcome back, shall we?**  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Eight<strong>

_10:15, November 1; New York City_

Marie and Linnaeus Wilcox's house was airy and spacious – quite a rarity in the heart of New York City. The living room was well furnished and tastefully decorated in soft hues of cream, beige, and brown – and Lindsay, who was sitting in it, commented on its beauty.

"Thank you," Marie said, smiling. "I picked out the color scheme myself."

"It's lovely," Lindsay assured her.

Linnaeus, sitting next to Marie on the pinstriped-upholstered couch, cleared his throat. "You were saying you have my brother in custody, Detective?" he asked.

Lindsay drew her attention back to the reason she had come. "Yes, we do," she replied. "NYPD apprehended Vincent Wilcox at his home yesterday, and NCIS agents in D.C. arrested Kendall not long after."

"Does this mean we're…safe?" Marie questioned.

"Well…" Lindsay hesitated. "Not entirely."

"Why not?" Linnaeus queried.

"Vincent admitted to killing Leah Jasper, but he claims he'll walk."

"What?" exclaimed Marie. "How would he walk?"

"He seems to think his connections will keep him out of prison," answered Lindsay. "Do you have any idea who he might be referring to?"

Linnaeus shook his head. "I'm sorry, Detective, but I really don't have a clue. I don't have the best relationship with my brothers. I don't even like to admit I'm related to them, for obvious reasons." He looked uncomfortable; Marie rubbed his back soothingly.

Lindsay was disappointed, but she hid it well. It wasn't Linnaeus' fault his brothers were criminals.

"I understand," she said. As she rose to go, she held out her card. "If you remember anything, please –"

"Call you?" Marie smiled. "We will. I still have that other detective's card – Mac. You can keep yours."

Lindsay nodded in acknowledgment and kept her card.

"Oh, um, Detective," Linnaeus called as Lindsay opened the door to go out. Lindsay paused and looked back.

"Yes?"

"I'm just wondering…with Kendall and Vincent in police custody, does this mean we don't need protective detail anymore?" When Lindsay didn't reply immediately, Linnaeus rushed on, "It's just…my wife and I…our anniversary's coming up next week and we usually take a trip out of town to celebrate." As he spoke, Marie smiled and clasped his hand.

Lindsay considered that for a while.

"I don't see a problem with it," she said finally. "Just be careful, okay? And call us if you see anything suspicious."

"We will, Detective," Marie agreed. "Thank you."

Lindsay nodded and left.

* * *

><p><em>13:33<em>

Adam looked up from analyzing a broken shard of glass from one of the lab's other cases when he felt someone's presence in the room.

"Oh, hey, Sid," he greeted cheerfully – albeit a little puzzled. "What're you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Mac," Sid replied. "Or Stella. Either one of them."

Adam frowned. "Why? What's up?"

Sid exhaled as he wondered how to explain. "Uh…Dr. Mallard sent me the autopsy report of Daniel Wells."

"Their other Marine vic?"

"Yes. He wanted me to compare the torture methods used on Major Wells to the injuries inflicted on Col. Jasper."

"So what'd you find?"

"Well, whoever tortured Major Wells was quite obviously not as skilled as Vincent Wilcox. He was definitely not military," Sid said. "However, it's clear that the intent was there. Wells shares some injuries with Jasper – broken ribs, lacerations…his killer was trying to recreate the wounds Jasper sustained."

"Okay," said Adam. "But, uh…I still don't see where this is going, Sid."

"Well, I got curious; I wanted to know why anyone would bother trying to torture Wells the same way Vincent tortured Jasper – unless there was some sort of symbolism to it," Sid explained. "That would be the first sign of a connection between our two Marines."

"Right," Adam agreed.

"So I did a little digging," Sid continued. "Remember the girl who was killed fifteen years ago? Jasper's best friend?"

"Anna Winston," Adam supplied.

"Right, well…it turns out that she was a good friend of Wells', as well."

Adam blinked. "How'd you find that out?"

"Well, I called in some favors from some old Marine friends of mine – they still owe me from the time I helped them get girls on a night out at the club by stringing up their –"

"Stop," Adam pleaded, holding up his hand. He should have remembered how eccentric Sid could be before inquiring. "I'm sorry I asked."

Sid chuckled, used to this reaction. His past was colorful, to say the least – Hawkes called it his 'creepy place' – but he did enjoy startling his colleagues with tales of his former exploits.

"Anyway, one of them told me that Wells used to talk about this girl named Anna from his childhood who was murdered when she was thirteen," he resumed. "Apparently he used to have quite a crush on her. Another one said he emailed a female Marine quite frequently. When I asked him what her name was, guess what he told me."

"Lt. Col. Leah Jasper?" Adam guessed.

Sid nodded. "Bingo. And not only that, but some of the members on his unit also mentioned that Wells was trying to find answers about Anna's unsolved murder."

"Just like Jasper."

"Exactly."

Adam's brow furrowed as he concentrated on this new piece of information, thinking deeply. "So if Wells and Jasper were both investigating Anna's murder, they both would have found out about Main Wave, and they both would have dug deeper. What're the chances that they were working a joint investigation together?"

"Oh, I'd say quite probable," Sid calculated.

"We've gotta tell Mac."

* * *

><p><em>"Look, Mac, I knew that sooner or later someone was going to ask you that question. I decided that if I asked you first, it would be easier – because you and I have an understanding. I figured it would be easier for you to truthfully say you didn't have evidence now instead of later in the investigation. And once I asked the question and got an answer, no other reporter would ask it for a while, giving you time to work your case," <em>Reed explained over the phone in response to Mac's query about his question at the press conference.

Mac leaned back in his office chair, mulling it over.

_"Mac?" _Reed inquired. _"You still there?"_

"Yeah, I'm here," said Mac.

_"You understand why I did it, right?" _Reed asked, a little anxiously. _"I mean, I wanted to help you."_

Mac allowed himself a smile. "I get it, Reed," he assured the young reporter. "Just do me a favor, okay? Next time you want to do something like that, give me a little warning first."

There was a chuckle from the other end. _"All right, Mac. I'll see you."_

"Bye," Mac said, before the line cut off. Before he could put his phone away, it rang again. "Taylor." He listened for a while. "Five minutes," he said, before flipping his phone shut once more – just as Sid and Adam came into his office.

"Mac, Sid's got some information you need to hear," Adam told him.

"He can tell it to everyone," Mac said. "Video conference with Agent Gibbs' team in five minutes. Get Stella, Flack, Hawkes, Danny, and Lindsay."

"Flack's at the precinct," Adam said.

"Then get everyone else and meet me in the conference room."

* * *

><p>Five minutes later, when Mac, Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes, Adam, and Sid were gathered in the conference room, they waited for Gibbs' connection.<p>

They didn't have to wait long; the call came just as Hawkes closed the door.

_"Mac," _Gibbs greeted.

"Gibbs," Mac returned. "You've finished interrogating Kendall Wilcox?"

_"Yup," _said Tony. _"And we got a _lot _of information."_

"Great," said Stella. "Let's hear it."

_"First of all, Kendall Wilcox is not guilty of murder of any sort," _Ziva reported. _"He's guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, but not murder itself."_

_"He's not the real leader of Main Wave, either," _put in McGee. _"He told us that when he arrived in D.C. he headed straight for a safe house Main Wave maintained in the city. That night he met a man there by the name of Ernest St. James, who was one of the original hijackers of the jewel load in 1990 – and the real leader of Main Wave."_

"Kendall was just a decoy to throw us off track," Mac realized. His gut feeling from earlier had just been proven correct.

_"Right," _Abby agreed. _"Now, Kendall said that Ernest St. James left the safe house at around eleven that night, saying he had somewhere to be. Kendall hasn't seen him since. But Major Wells was killed at approximately four o' clock the next morning."_

"Five-hour window," said Hawkes.

"Plenty of time," Danny agreed.

"Uh, while we're on the subject of Major Wells," Sid interjected, attracting everyone's attention, "I have something to add about his murder."

He related what he had found about the connection between Wells and Jasper. When he was done, everyone looked thoughtful.

_"So Wells and Jasper were investigating together," _Tony mused, thinking.

_"Then it makes sense that they were both killed to protect Main Wave's interests," _put in Ducky. _"It also explains the similarities between their torture."_

"Only difference there is that Jasper's killer had military training, and Wells' killer did not," Sid finished.

"Is Ernest St. James Wells' killer?" Stella inquired.

On-screen, Gibbs shrugged. _"It's possible – it's even likely, but we don't have any proof."_

_"That's Gibbs' way of saying 'yes, he did'," _Tony translated. _"He's got a gut feeling – and Gibbs' gut feelings are never wrong."_

Gibbs promptly whacked him upside the head for unnecessary input. Tony rubbed the spot and muttered, _"Sorry, boss."_

"Okay, so assuming Gibbs' gut is correct," said Lindsay, "Ernest St. James got Vincent Wilcox to kill Jasper in New York while he took care of Wells in D.C."

"Where is St. James now?" Mac questioned.

McGee shrugged helplessly. _"I haven't managed to locate him – yet. It's like trying to find Kendall Wilcox all over again," _he complained.

"I know the feeling," Lindsay sympathized.

_"We do have a possible lead on his whereabouts, though," _said Ziva. _"Kendall mentioned that although Main Wave has been expanding across the United States, their headquarters is still in Los Angeles. He said that St. James rarely ever leaves L.A.– when he does, it's only for important things."_

_"Like killing a Marine who's getting dangerously close to their secret," _Tony supplied.

_"What Kendall's told us," _Abby interrupted, _"is consistent with the evidence we found on Wells' body. Kendall's hair was transferred to Wells via St. James, and St. James probably tracked in the wood chips from L.A., too."_

"What makes you so sure?" Danny queried.

Abby smiled brightly. _"Because Tony's right. Gibbs' gut is _never _wrong."_

"So we can probably assume that St. James will return to L.A. to continue managing the smuggling ring," Hawkes said.

_"Not just managing," _Gibbs corrected. _"Transforming."_

"What?" Adam asked.

_"According to Kendall, there's a big heist planned for November 9," _McGee explained. _"After that, St. James is gonna shut down the entire ring until the attention from the media and cops has died down and he judges that it's safe to restart business. Then he's going to slowly revive Main Wave under a new name."_

"And we'll never find him," Mac concluded.

McGee tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"Is that it?" Stella asked.

_"There's one more thing," _Ziva replied. _"Kendall managed to evade us for so long because he had a source in New York giving him tips about how far the investigation was progressing: his brother. He warned Kendall that you were closing in, and that's how Kendall knew to get out of New York."_

Mac nodded. "Well, we've got Vincent Wilcox in custody now, so that shouldn't be a problem."

At this, Gibbs gave him a funny look.

"What?" Mac asked.

_"It wasn't Vincent who was tipping off Kendall," _Gibbs told him.

Once they heard this, the entire New York team knew who was responsible for aiding Kendall even before Ducky said, _"It was Linnaeus."_

The short silence that followed this announcement was broken by Lindsay, who groaned in realization.

"Oh, no," she moaned.

"What?" Danny questioned.

"We recalled Marie and Linnaeus' protective detail this morning," Lindsay replied. "There's no one at their house; the way's free for them to run."

Mac had already got out his phone to tell Flack to get to the Wilcox house pronto.

"I'm sorry," Lindsay apologized.

"It wasn't your fault, Lindsay," Stella assured her.

"They told me their anniversary was next week and they were going out of town to celebrate," said Lindsay. "They've probably fled the city by now."

_"Then we'll track them down and arrest them," _Gibbs declared.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: We have six days to go till Christmas, and this IS the second-last chapter...reviews would make the best Christmas present you guys could give me! =D**_


	10. Chapter Nine

**_A/N: So, this last chapter wraps up several loose ends, but leaves a few hanging to continue to the next story._**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Nine<strong>

_14:24, November 1; NY Crime Lab_

Not surprisingly, Flack called fifteen minutes after the CSIs ended the video conference with Gibbs' team to report that Marie and Linnaeus Wilcox had vanished from their house.

_"There's not a sign of them," _he told Mac. _"The place is completely empty."_

Mac sighed. "Get uniforms to patrol the boundary – I'll send Danny, Lindsay, and Hawkes over to help you look through the place. Maybe we'll find something that can tell us where they're going."

_"Will do," _agreed Flack.

* * *

><p><em>NCIS Headquarters, Washington, D.C.<em>

McGee came very close to cursing when yet another search for Marie and Linnaeus Wilcox and the elusive Ernest St. James came up blank – in fact, a few mumbled oaths did make themselves known in the form of a quiet mutter.

"Nothing?" Tony guessed.

McGee glared ferociously at him.

"I'll take that to be a fact," said Tony.

"I'm really starting to hate this case," McGee grumbled discontentedly. "I keep having to look for people who won't be looked for. This disappearing thing must be a Wilcox family trait."

"Why don't you try checking their credit statements and bank accounts?" Ziva suggested.

"Already did that," said McGee. "Ernest St. James doesn't _have _a credit card – and there's nothing unusual in Marie and Linnaeus' credit statements, but they recently withdrew a significant amount of money from their bank account."

"When was this?" Tony asked.

McGee checked. "Eleven o' clock this morning. The money was taken from a secondary account separate from the joint account they established when they were married."

"How much did they take?" Ziva questioned.

"$1000."

"Nothing too large," Ziva noted, "but more than enough for two flights across the country."

"McGee, check the total amount in their secondary account," Tony instructed.

McGee obliged; then whistled in amazement, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline as he saw the figure.

"Half a million dollars," he reported, stunned.

Tony, however, didn't look surprised – merely satisfied. "My guess is they're part of Main Wave. It is the family business, after all. Who wants to bet they're heading to L.A. to meet up with their boss?"

"I'll take that bet," Gibbs answered. Tony looked taken aback.

"Um, you will?" he asked hesitantly.

Gibbs stared at him, and Tony got the message.

"Getting back to work, boss," he agreed quickly.

* * *

><p><em>Wilcox residence, New York City<em>

A crunch of gravel alerted Danny to the fact that there was someone else outside besides the uniforms patrolling the yard.

"Flack, did you hear that?" he asked.

"Yeah, I heard it," the detective replied in a low voice, pulling out his gun.

"Linds, stay with Hawkes," said Danny, following Flack's example.

"The uniforms outside would've got the intruder, wouldn't they?" Lindsay asked uncertainly.

Flack shrugged and moved out the door, with Danny guarding his back. With a few silent strides they were out of sight, leaving Lindsay alone with Hawkes.

"We might as well keep looking," Hawkes reasoned, moving around the Wilcoxes' living room.

Lindsay started to nod, but then a rush of movement outside the window caught her attention.

"Danny, she's heading round the back!" she heard Flack yell.

"Stay here," Lindsay ordered, drawing her gun as she dashed for the back door. Kicking it open with force, she was just in time to block off the escape route for the intruder.

"Flack, I got her," Danny called over his shoulder as he came around the corner of the house.

Meanwhile, Lindsay stared incredulously at the intruder. She knew this face – as did every other investigator involved in the Jasper homicide.

"Janice Bright."

* * *

><p><em>16:40, NYPD Precinct<em>

Stella walked out of the interrogation room and into observation in frustration.

"She's not saying anything," she informed Flack.

"Do we know how she got past the uniforms?" Hawkes asked.

"Yeah," said Flack. "Tranquilizers."

"So we've got her on conspiracy to commit murder, assault of police officers, and breaking and entering," surmised Hawkes.

"We've got her on Judge Gates' murder too," Danny added, hanging up his phone. "That was Adam. He finally managed to reconstruct the partial fingerprints Sid pulled off Gates' neck. They came back a match to Bright."

"And she's not talking _at all_?" Hawkes asked, surprised.

"She's confident that she'll walk." Stella sounded annoyed. "Just like Vincent Wilcox." She sighed. "She did say that she wasn't breaking and entering. According to her, Marie asked her to meet her at the house."

"Could Marie Wilcox be the partner Bright claims to have double-crossed her?" Lindsay wondered.

"It's possible," Stella admitted. "In fact, by the way this case is going, I'd say it's probable, but like practically everything else in this case, we can't prove it for certain. It'll never hold up in court."

"So we need to get more evidence," Flack deduced.

"Yeah, but how?" asked Stella. "Janice Bright and Vincent Wilcox aren't talking; Marie and Linnaeus have disappeared to who-knows-where; Kendall's in D.C.; and Ernest St. James has gone off the grid, probably to L.A. – but again, we can't prove it."

"There's nothing left in New York," Lindsay realized. "There's nothing left in our jurisdiction."

Stella appeared to think for a while. "I think it's time we call another video conference."

* * *

><p><em>NCIS Headquarters<em>

Director Vance leaned over the railing. "Gibbs, you've got a call from Detective Taylor's team."

"Another one?" Tony asked as Gibbs ascended the stairs to MTAC.

McGee shrugged.

The minute Gibbs entered MTAC, he was speedily updated of the situation in New York by the various detectives of Mac's team.

He was particularly interested in the capture of Janice Bright.

"What did she say?" he inquired when Flack got to that part.

_"Nothing much,"_ Stella confessed. _"We do think she and Marie were working together on the jewel thefts she got convicted for."_

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Bright stole the jewelry and gave it to Marie to give to Main Wave?"

_"Maybe," _Mac conceded.

"Well, that's consistent with what McGee found here," said Gibbs. "Marie and Linnaeus withdrew $1000 from a secondary bank account. We think they might be using the money to get to L.A."

Mac nodded in acknowledgment.

_"Well, as it stands now, I don't think we can do anymore in New York," _said Stella. _"The whole case looks like it's moving to L.A."_

"We do have a field office in L.A.," Vance interjected. He caught Gibbs' eye and knew they were both thinking the same thing.

"The whole team this time?" Gibbs asked.

"The whole team," Vance affirmed.

_"Wait, what?" _asked Hawkes.

"We have a base of operations in L.A.; since the case is moving there, we're moving there too," Gibbs explained.

_"And what about us?" _Danny questioned.

"You're welcome to join Gibbs," Vance invited. "This case started in your city; it's only fair that you be involved in the finish."

_"How do you know it's going to finish in L.A.?" _Flack inquired.

Vance and Gibbs answered at the same time. "It's a gut feeling."

* * *

><p><em>NY Crime Lab<em>

Once the video call terminated, Stella turned to Mac and said, "Mac, we can't send the whole team across the country to L.A."

"No, we can't," Mac agreed. "The budget cuts won't allow us to do it, and Sinclair will have my head for even suggesting it."

"So we're not going," Hawkes concluded.

"Not _all_ of us."

Stella, who knew him best, caught the implication in Mac's tone. "What are you thinking?"

"We can't send _everyone_ to L.A.," Mac replied, "but we _can_ spare two people."

"Who?" Flack asked.

Mac smiled at him. "You. And…"

"Oh, don't tell me." Stella smirked. "I'm going with him."

Mac nodded. Stella and Flack exchanged identical grins.

"Both of you, get packed," Mac directed. "I want you on the next flight to Los Angeles."

* * *

><p><em>NCIS Headquarters<em>

Tony, Ziva, and McGee were all concentrating hard on their work at their computers, so it came as quite a shock to them when Gibbs opened the door to MTAC and issued a command as he strode down the stairs.

"Get packed," he ordered succinctly.

In retrospect, it shouldn't have been totally unexpected – but none of his agents imagined that they would be traveling again so soon after returning from New York. So they were a little clueless about this new development.

"What?" asked Tony.

"Why?" questioned McGee.

Ziva was a little smarter. "Where are we going?"

"Los Angeles." Gibbs stepped into the open elevator door. "McGee will fill you in." The doors closed. Tony and Ziva turned to McGee, who had a smile on his face.

"What's he talking about?" Tony wanted to know.

McGee's smile turned into a grin. "We're going to NCIS' Office of Special Projects."

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: So, that ends the second story. **_

_**Now, before I go, I want to say this: I was reading a fanfiction the other day when I came across something very profound in the author's note. The author declared (s)he'd rather have a certain two loyal supporters than an inbox full of meaningless "Great job, update soon" reviews. That struck a chord with me. I haven't gotten as many reviews as I'd like for this fic, but to the few who did review, I'd rather have your loyalty than a hundred one-time, one-line reviewers. So thanks to you guys. Merry Christmas and I'll see you in the next installment this trilogy - **Cross Country Case: Pacific Crime._


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